We Know the Devil

It's a short experience, but an impactful one. I can't say I relate much to the characters, but there's a degree of warmth in We Know the Devil that just brings you into its story and makes you feel all fuzzy all over as you see these characters go through their ♥♥♥♥ and grow a bit closer together. I appreciate the general sentiment of the game, people being weighed down by the need forced upon them to be "good," that idea of good being whatever the enforcers say it is. In this case, the message about religion is overt and clear. Clunky, to be sure, but not an uninteresting one. Mostly, though, it's interesting for the very odd, untold story that rests at the heart of We Know the Devil. The world of We Know the Devil is not like ours, at least it probably isn't. It's a world where the Devil is real and God is too, but God's the one our characters turn their backs on in the true ending (a worthwhile ending as it's the only one that feels particularly complete of the four endings). I dislike the need to replay the game to go through each ending and I think the writing is generally too haphazard for my tastes. I also feel that the characters would feel better if they had more air to breathe, i.e., if the game were longer and not focused on just this one night. But, again, there's that warmth I was talking about. Seeing the characters talk, you grow to care for them quickly even if you don't know them as well as you'd like by the end. And every moment, I was happy with them when they were happy. There's a song from the game, Growing Poppies. It's beautiful, my favorite part of the game, and I would say it holds in it everything the game wants to talk and be about. There's beauty, warmth and comfort in its main piano line, and yet behind it there is this constant, shimmering drone. It's easy to think of it as a sort of discomfiting background that always paints the backdrop behind the main characters, but I cannot help but see some positive value in it. I don't know how to interpret that drone, though. The image I get in my head is of these three characters on the precipice of something and that the drone is the apocalypse coming to wash the characters away. And it's like these characters have only really been brought together and self-actualized because that apocalypse put them there in the first place. It's not that it was best this way. It would be better if the characters were able to become the selves they really want to be, not the selves they're made to be, simply without that threat looming over them. But, I guess there's beauty to be recognized in a bad situation, a good miracle in that of a bad thing. I guess it's just inexplicable to me. I'm sat here thinking it through and trying to figure out what it is this song is doing and why it feels so meaningful to me, but all my metaphors seem to lean towards painting that noise as a bad, ugly thing. And it's not ugly to me, it's just as beautiful as that piano is. Maybe it's that in isolation, the two would create a different experience, but in coming together, there's a sort of sheer beauty that either individually would never have been able to realize. Maybe the drone represents "evil," or the opposite of goodliness. Jupiter talks at one point, in her individual ending, about this sensation of having started evil and trying so hard to be good only to find by the end that it was for nothing. And yet, as we find in the true ending, these characters and their happiest ending comes with their decisions to turn their backs on God, to become three Eves. The song, Growing Poppies, starts and ends with this drone, fades in and fades out. Maybe that's all it is? The recognition that what appears to be evil never really was, despite everything we were told. The summer heat becomes overbearing with time. The warmth turns to discomfort which turns to a desire for the shade. It's as if the sun, in beating us down, wants to push us into the shade. We know the devil, for it lies in the shadow of man. So, maybe it's best to rest in the shadows when the heat of light gets to be too much. If nothing else, you know you'll have company.

I did not particularly like this particular visual novel. I disagree heavily with some of the overarching themes, I felt it overall communicated its messages in far too overbearing a manner, and one character's arc actually made me quite upset for reasons entirely unrelated to the ones I was supposed to be upset over. However, observing good art one disagrees with now and then is good for the soul, and this is quite good art. Very well written. I can't not recommend it, although I personally will not be playing it again. (two endings was plenty for me, though admittedly I am a little curious as to how the ones I haven't seen go.)

We Know the Devil is an unconventional visual novel that blends psychological horror, coming-of-age drama, and supernatural themes into a compact yet remarkably memorable experience. Developed by Pillow Fight and Worst Girls Games and published by Pillow Fight, the game takes place at a mysterious Christian summer camp where three teenagers—Neptune, Jupiter, and Venus—are assigned a strange task: spend a night in an isolated cabin and confront the Devil. While the premise initially suggests a traditional horror story, the game quickly reveals itself to be far more interested in exploring human relationships, loneliness, and the emotional struggles of adolescence. The narrative stands out because of how it approaches character interaction. Rather than following a fixed route, players decide which two girls spend time together during key moments. This simple mechanic creates a powerful sense of tension because one character is always left out. The resulting feelings of exclusion and imbalance become central to the story, reflecting the difficulties of maintaining friendships within a trio. Every choice subtly changes the emotional landscape, allowing different sides of each character to emerge and encouraging multiple playthroughs to fully understand their perspectives. The writing is easily one of the game's greatest strengths. Each protagonist possesses a distinct personality and emotional baggage that influences how they relate to one another. Neptune masks vulnerability behind confidence and sarcasm, Jupiter struggles with responsibility and expectations, while Venus constantly searches for acceptance and belonging. Their conversations feel natural and emotionally charged, shifting between humor, awkwardness, affection, and fear. Despite the game's relatively short length, the characters develop enough depth to leave a lasting impression, and their personal insecurities become the true driving force behind the story. Although marketed as a horror experience, the game relies less on traditional scares and more on psychological unease. The Devil functions as both a supernatural threat and a symbolic representation of fear, shame, and alienation. Strange events occur throughout the night, but the most unsettling moments often stem from the characters' emotional conflicts rather than any visible monster. This approach creates a lingering atmosphere of discomfort that remains effective long after the story ends. The game uses horror as a lens through which to examine identity and social anxiety, giving it a unique voice within the genre. The visual presentation reinforces this tone exceptionally well. Character portraits are expressive and distinctive, while the backgrounds utilize a faded photographic style that resembles old snapshots from a forgotten summer. This artistic direction gives the game a dreamlike quality, making the camp feel both familiar and unnerving. The contrast between realistic environments and stylized character art contributes to the feeling that reality is slowly unraveling around the protagonists. The overall aesthetic is memorable and perfectly suited to the story's themes. Sound design also plays an important role in establishing the mood. The soundtrack features atmospheric electronic compositions that quietly build tension throughout the experience. Rather than relying on dramatic musical cues, the audio remains subtle and haunting, complementing the emotional weight of the dialogue and supernatural events. Together, the visuals and music create an immersive environment that feels isolated, melancholic, and occasionally surreal. Replayability is stronger than expected thanks to the branching narrative structure. Different combinations of character interactions unlock alternate scenes, new insights, and multiple endings. Players who invest time in exploring every route gain a much fuller understanding of the story and its themes. This design ensures that the experience remains engaging beyond a single playthrough and rewards those willing to examine every perspective. We Know the Devil is not a game designed for everyone. Its storytelling embraces ambiguity, symbolism, and emotional subtext, often leaving certain details open to interpretation. Players seeking straightforward horror or fast-paced gameplay may find its approach unusual. However, those interested in character-driven narratives, experimental storytelling, and meaningful thematic exploration will discover a thoughtful and emotionally resonant experience. It succeeds as both a supernatural tale and a reflection on adolescence, identity, and the fear of being excluded from the people who matter most. Rating: 9/10